


Days Beyond the Ring

by Illegible_Scribble



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: A little angst, Family Fluff, Fluff, Frodo stays in the Shire, Gen, M/M, Post-Quest, Very much non-canon, and gets to be a dad, non-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 05:11:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18230360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illegible_Scribble/pseuds/Illegible_Scribble
Summary: Frodo stirs in the late morning of March 25th, 1423 in the Shire Reckoning. It is the New Year in Gondor, but a celebration of much more than that in Bag End.





	Days Beyond the Ring

**Author's Note:**

> A little story with some happiness and hope on the anniversary of the Ring's destruction.  
> Within, Elanor (Baggins-)Gardener has two fathers, Frodo and Sam, without a mother exactly in the picture. How this came to pass can be left up to your imagination, or I can elaborate on my own ideas upon request. In any case, please enjoy if you read on. :)

The soft light of morning was beginning already to draw longer into the afternoon, and only now was a tray containing breakfast and the first tea of the day set aside on the nightstand. Gandalf appeared to be dozing peacefully in an armchair in the corner of the room, looking as much a simple old man as ever, though minutes ago he had been up and about, and the things he'd said were unmistakably the words of a wizard.

The last vestiges of a deep fog finally fled Frodo's mind as he set his empty teacup on the tray near at hand. There was still a curious feeling in his left hand – which possessed only four fingers – which Frodo could not quite describe, save he felt almost it wasn't his own. Yet, neither it nor his shoulder was currently paining him, and no shadows emerged from the room or the corners of his mind to haunt him. The morning had been very taxing, as the anniversary this day brought had proved to be for several years now, but Frodo felt a sense of delight and relief to have confirmation from Gandalf, that his optimism was not giving him false hope that it had not been so bad as previous years had been.

He was healing.

The room was heavy with the scent of _aethelas,_ for basins of the leaves had been brought in since early the night before, bruised and placed in steaming water to fill the room with their calming aroma. A bottle of oil made from the plant also stood within arm's reach on the nightstand, which Frodo had been endlessly thankful for, whenever one of his injuries began to pain him particularly.

As Frodo leaned back on the pile of pillows behind him, there was a soft knock on the door, and to his pleasure he found the strength to say, “Come in.” with little effort.

Sam's face appeared as he pushed the door open, tentative but aglow that it was Frodo's voice he heard, and not Gandalf's. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better; I think the worst of it is passed.” In the past, it was not unknown for the night to bring similar grief, or for Frodo's waking moments to be seized suddenly, out of his control, by pain and memory of it, but Gandalf made an affirmative 'hmm'ing noise in agreement, and a small smile could be seen beneath his beard. If the wizard agreed, Frodo's estimate was likely true.

There were dark smudges beneath Sam's eyes that betrayed his exhaustion, but his smile was bright and genuinely delighted in spite of them. “That's the finest thing I heard today.” He came to the bedside and sat down, taking Frodo into his arms and planting a kiss on top of his head. “I'm so glad you're doin' better.”

Frodo nestled closer, soaking up Sam's warmth and love as if it were sunlight. “I am as well.” They sat for some moments, Sam stroking Frodo's back and simply enjoying this moment of warmth and pleasure on this day, until Frodo asked, “How has everything been?”

“Oh, fine enough. A fair bit to keep track of, but Merry an' Pippin bein' here's been a load off me shoulders. Ellie's havin' a nap, now, but they've been keepin' an eye on her when I've been helpin' you an' Gandalf.”

Frodo smiled at the news. “I'm surprised they've really put themselves to use, but not complaining at all.” he hesitated briefly, then, his smile wavering with the next question poised on his lips. “Could I see her?”

Though Frodo and Sam both counted themselves very lucky for the grace of being given a daughter, Frodo felt it an almost cruel twist of fate she had been born on one of the two days in the year that caused him the greatest grief. He felt somehow he was nearly cheating her for being bedridden a great deal of it, and though improvements to his condition could be seen on the horizons of tomorrow, he knew for some years yet he would still struggle on this day, and be unable to spend the whole of it with her. Thus, in spite of his bitterness with himself, he knew it wasn't something he could – and as Sam believed, should – hide from her.

So, Sam did not hesitate in his answer. “A' course. She's been asleep for a bit now, an' probably nearin' wakin' up soon anyway. I'm sure she wants to see her Atya, too.” Frodo felt himself beginning to tremble slightly with emotion, as Sam kissed him gently and promised a quick return, before gathering the dishes and getting up to go.

Frodo settled against the pillows again, trying to calculate how well he was feeling. They'd planned a small party in the afternoon, and he hoped sincerely he'd be able to stay up for all of it. His eyes moved to the wizard resting not far away, for all appearances still dozing. “What do you think, Gandalf?” he asked, trying to provide some sort of noise to fill the quiet, which was otherwise only broken by the beating of his heart.

Gandalf opened an eye, and raised one bushy eyebrow to study Frodo. “A broad question,” he said, “what do I think of what, exactly?”

Frodo needed a moment to find his voice, and bend it back to his will. “Am I failing her?”

Gandalf sighed softly, and shook his head, opening both eyes, now. “Hardly, my dear boy. You are giving her the best of yourself you can, whenever you can. True, that cannot be every day, but then – as far as I have known, which is a long time indeed – there is no parent that can. You carry more pain than any other hobbit that has chosen this path, yet I believe you bear it better than any other would, if put to the same.

“Yes, you're about to say it's in great part to Sam, and perhaps it is – he certainly does not go without credit – yet it is you that must live with those wounds, Frodo, and carry them and fight to better them. In the very end, at the root of it, I fear it is a battle you must fight alone, yet fight you still do.” a smile quirked the wizard's lips. “Why, two years ago you would not have been awake now to see the sun or a friendly face. Today, I might think you could walk, if you decide you desire it.”

Frodo took a breath to speak, and held it, trying to think of something more appropriate than a mere 'thank-you'. But then, there was a stirring at the door again, and Frodo would have said the sun had come down from the sky and into his room as he saw Elanor.

Elanor was able to walk, now, though Sam was still holding one of her hands to steady her as they came in, and provided a helpful boost in her jump to take her on top of the bed, and then into Frodo's arms.

Any fear Frodo might have had for the strength of his left arm was forgotten, and he helped her stand on his lap for some moments while they touched foreheads, and Elanor's small hands rested on his face. “Atya!” she said, ever astute, and grinning.

Frodo found himself unable to not return the smile. “Hello, Elanor!” he said, planting a kiss on her forehead before pulling her into a hug against him, to her delighted giggles. “Do you know what today is?” he asked her, shifting her slightly so she could see his face and the day planner he grasped from the nightstand. Her expression shifted to one of open-mouthed wonder, and her little hands took hold of it as he presented it to her. “The 25th of March,” he said, trying not to laugh as Elanor experimentally attempted to nibble one corner of the planner, “the year 1423 in the Shire Reckoning. In the land of Gondor far in the East, you know,” Elanor looked up at him with enormous blue eyes that mirrored his own, one corner of the planner in her mouth (were it not safe for a baby, Frodo would not have offered it to her), “today is their New Year, and if I'm not mistaken, it is now the first day of the second year of the Fourth Age.” The light in his expression dimmed faintly, which Elanor seemed to notice as she let go of the planner. “Some years ago, on this day, something very extraordinary happened, to end the Third Age and begin the Fourth. But,” Frodo turned the planner for her to look at again, and on it was written several things for the day – including, as he'd just said, the Gondorian New Year, “most important of all,” he tapped the last note on the paper, which was underlined several times, “today is your first birthday!” Elanor giggled and clapped happily at this revelation, though for her limited vocabulary she had no idea what it meant, beyond it was something her father was excited about.

Frodo looked at her, smiling and trying to contain a feeling welling up in his chest. “It's been a very long year,” he told her, raising his knees so she could lean back and look at him, “and I can't say you've always made it terribly easy,” he paused, swallowing a lump in his throat, “but I am very glad you've been here.” He held her small hands in his. “Someday,” he said, more quietly, “you'll better understand why this day is so difficult for me, and why, some days, I am not as able to be with you as Daddy is. I hope in the future I will be better, and I like to think I will be, in part because of you.” Elanor mirrored his smile. “You're one of the very dearest things in this world to me, and I hope I am able to make each and every one of your birthdays as happy as I can.”

Prompted by Frodo's smile growing wider, in spite of the fear behind it, Elanor laughed, accepting her father's vow even if she didn't know what exactly it meant. Frodo bent down to place a kiss on her hands, and held her against him once more, before looking up at Sam. “Is everything ready?”

Sam nodded. “Aye, all the cake's needin' now is a candle.”

Frodo leaned Elanor back and gave her a smile. “Are you ready for a party, Elanor?”

She replied with a happy, “Atya!” and Sam and Frodo agreed that was enough of an assent. With some care, Frodo shifted Elanor back to Sam, and pushed the coverlet aside, stirring Gandalf's attention. The year before, Frodo had been able to manage some standing and a bit of walking, but a nervousness still gripped him as he shifted his legs over the edge of the bed, and began to slide down. He felt stiff and tired as he put his weight upon the floor, but no worse as he steadied himself on the nightstand, and stood. He might've fallen for his relief at this, but he remained standing, and looked to his husband and daughter. “I'll be a moment with dressing, if you'd like to go bother Merry and Pippin again.”

Sam looked immensely proud as he helped Elanor down and to the door, and Gandalf soon followed after them. Frodo kept to his word, and was not far behind them. The later night was not as kind to him as it might have been, but he was untroubled as he helped Elanor blow out the candle on her cake, and watched her unwrap her first birthday presents.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Atya = essentially, “daddy” in Elvish (Quenya) shortened form of the more formal Atarinya, “father”.
> 
> I know hobbit custom is to give _others_ presents on one's own birthday. However, as youngsters typically don't have much to give, I'd imagine for their first few birthdays, they're given gifts until a certain age, at which point they begin returning the gestures.


End file.
